It wasn't the most recognizable symbol of the new year, but it had to be close.
Nancy stood in Times Square at 11:46 p.m., staring up at the ball. All around her, guests were laughing, shouting, singing along with the headlining performer, drinking, exclaiming—and Nancy ignored all of it, letting it wash over her so her subconscious could pick out anything useful.
They had found the culprit, the programmer who had managed to get in and insert some of his own code to ruin the event. The problem had been fixed.
But Nancy still had no intention of walking away, not until the ball had actually dropped and everything was finished. She had been invited to Times Square to help ensure the ball drop went as scheduled; there was no way she was going to miss it.
She couldn't help wishing that Ned had been able to make it, though.
That disappointment threatened to interfere with her focus, so she pushed it away, but the sadness lingered. Ned had been an hour away from getting on the plane to come with her when something had come up. They had talked to each other every day, and she was going to video chat with him so he could at least see the ball drop with her that way.
She knew that missing that midnight kiss didn't mean anything; it wouldn't doom their relationship or make Ned so desperate that he'd rush out to make out with a stranger instead of her. But there was just something about it, and that anticipation had been even stronger this year. She loved that kiss from the guy she loved, the kiss that claimed her as his for the rest of the year, as ineffectual as that spell had sometimes proven to be. She loved that feel of it, as the time ticked over into a new year: that it was all spread out before them, unwritten, perfect. Nothing had spoiled it yet.
"Our life together starts when we say it does," he'd pointed out, when she had mourned it a little during their last conversation. "So let's find some time to be alone when you get back, and I'll definitely give you a kiss to remember."
Nancy couldn't deny that that had sent a warm tingling all the way down to her toes.
The crowd's already frantic energy surged, and Nancy glanced up at the enormous digital clock counting down each fraction of a second until the big event. Eleven-fifty. Ten more minutes. Then she glanced over at the ball again.
It would be fine. Her worry wasn't going to guarantee it went off without a hitch; she didn't need to stay here, pacing like a worried expectant father. And she could correct so little, if anything else had been maliciously changed.
But when her phone began to vibrate in her pocket, she still jumped, keyed up and too alert. She fumbled for it, growling at her clumsiness in her gloves; the weather was far too cold to go without them, but they definitely made everything more complicated. "Hello?"
The person on the other end had to shout to be heard over the clamor of the crowd. "Miss Drew? You're needed at Checkpoint A-5."
After confirming with the officer what the nearest landmark was, Nancy headed in that direction, fighting against the crowd, drunken revelers, knots of laughing friends blowing wheezing noisemakers, sporting oversized hats and year-themed glasses, all of them glancing at the countdown clock, the performers, the event emcees, the ball itself. It took her far too long to reach it, but she appeared before the officer panting gently, eyes alight with interest, almost jittery with adrenaline.
He gestured to just behind her.
She turned to see—
"Ned!" She flung herself toward him, an instinctual act ignoring the barrier between them, and the officer made a face as he pulled back the barrier and let Ned in.
He immediately scooped Nancy up into his arms, holding her tight, and she laughed as a pair of happy tears streaked down her cheeks. "Why didn't you tell me?" she accused him, at the edge of another breathless laugh.
He was grinning when she pulled back. "Because I was afraid I wouldn't make it in time," he admitted. "And I was almost right."
She nodded, her heart pounding hard at the way he was searching her eyes, at the familiar tenderness and love she saw there. They moved toward each other at the same time, mouths meeting in a fierce kiss that took her breath away, her arms up over his shoulders as she clung to him.
The crowd roared with the shouted countdown, watching the last few seconds of the year drain away, celebrating its almost painfully slow end and the joyous rush of the new. Nancy and Ned just kissed again.
He was the last man she'd kiss this year. He'd be the first, the only man, she would kiss in the new one.
She was breathless when his mouth found her ear. "A part of me was hoping," he admitted, breathless too, his words blurring together in his haste, "that I'd have time to ask you..."
Her heart stopped at what he might mean, and she ran her fingers through his hair as it resumed its fierce pounding. "Ask me what," she gasped against his ear, then kissed his earlobe, and he groaned.
"If maybe, this year... we could..."
She moved to gaze into his eyes, and found him so sweetly anxious, so eager—but he had done this before, she thought, and maybe that memory of her previous answer was holding him back. After all, it hadn't been real before, not truly, and this...
She smiled. "Whatever you have on your mind," she said, "if it involves a ring or two, or a key, or a night we share... I'm pretty sure the answer's going to be yes."
He grinned and they moved toward each other again, lips meeting in a fierce, claiming kiss that drowned out the roar of approval around them, the cries of joy ushering in a brand-new year. When they broke the kiss, a rain of confetti and balloons was falling around them as the band welcomed the new year in jubilant song.
"Happy New Year, my love."
She grinned, giggling, alight with their shared joy, and brushed the tip of her nose against his. "Happy new beginning."